Page 28 of The Dandelion Princess
“Your baby? Please.”
I feel the hard, uncompromising shelf at my back. There’s no room to retreat. “I know what the title ofNeerheidvan Heyden means.”
“It means sacrificing a brilliant life on the altar of tradition.” She gives a puckish smile and tiny prismatic rainbows dance against the smooth wood paneling in a kind of halo. “The thing about hereditary titles is that everyone knows what they’re supposed to do, but no one is having fun.”
“You’re not having fun?” I ask, nudging her foot with the tip of my shoe. Even that much touching is a mistake.
She leans against the casement, catching a few raindrops in her hand. “This isn’t a vacation. I’m working on a new app,” she says. “I’ve binged a few dramas, gamed with internet strangers, trolled—”
She snaps her mouth closed, then covers it with the back of her hand and turns it into a yawn.
When her arms stretch wide, I imagine pulling her into my arms on the narrow bench and tasting her lips.Vede. I glare at the ornate strapwork on the ceiling. In another time, I would be drawn and quartered for these thoughts. Even so, I know what I heard. “What have you been up to?”
“Nothing.” She hops off the bench, scoops up the heels, and tries to run. In two long strides, I catch her hand. “Ella.”
My hold is loose but unyielding and she turns, tossing aside her shoes to peel my fingers back, one at a time. She makes no progress.
“Tell me you got rid of that Chirp handle,” I demand. “Tellme you’re not still trolling the prime minister’s posts.”
Her cheeks flush through the iridescent scales, and the set of her chin is obstinate. “What I do in my free time is none of your business.”
“Ella.” I shake our hands and her brilliant green eyes turn on me.Vede.My heart beats a hard, uneven rhythm. I cover it with worry and anger. “Is that what I told you when you wanted to help with Seong? That my business is not your business?”
“Many times.”
“Did you listen?”
She aims a blistering look at our hands. “No one knows it’s me.”
I tug her forward and she tips against my chest. “Iknow.”
If she surrenders here, her face tilted up to mine and her curls brushing against my skin, I am lost.
But she never surrenders. Instead, she twists away and traps my arm against her ribcage. My hold is gentle but she tears at my fingers. For the second time today, I cradle her against my chest, but this time I steady myself with a palm against her half-bare shoulder. So much of this is childish but too much of it is not.
“It doesn’t matter ifyouknow,” she grits out. “You won’t expose me to the press.”
“What about all those men back there in the ballroom?” I ask. The flash of jealousy, hot and uncontrollable, blazes through me. “What if you let it slip to one of theadelthat you call the prime minister—”
Her back thumps into my chest. “Those guys are my friends as much as you are. There’s no difference.”
No difference? A new source of frustration erupts from me. “You can’t count on those bottom feeders. Unless you promise to give a man like that something that makes dating a princess worth it, you are radioactive.”
Ella bites my index finger and I release her with a manly yelp.
She rounds on me, her wide green eyes full of hurt. “Radioactive?” she whispers.
Dominanstid. What the hell did I just say? My finger throbs but I hardly register the pain. It’s not too late to beg for forgiveness.
No. No. I’m only doing what Noah charged me with—looking after her as I would my own sister. She needs to see the danger she’s in.
“This isn’t a joke,” I say. “If it leaks that there’s an actual royal behind @trashpandaprincess, it could damage your whole family.”
She shoves my chest and I tip off balance, taking her with me, cushioning her as we fall in a heap of silk and sequins. The brimmed hat spins away but I am lost in the sensation of Ella in my arms, her mouth pressed into the crook of my neck. It will take a month in a monastery to find myself again.
I feel the surprise in her exhale and her breath warms my skin.
Six months. Nothing less.
